


Tea on Tuesday

by olivebranchesandredwine



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Canon Queer Relationship, Developing Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Patrick Brewer is Thirsty, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tea, patrick pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivebranchesandredwine/pseuds/olivebranchesandredwine
Summary: It's Patrick's solo day at the store, and he misses David.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 110
Kudos: 362
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	Tea on Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [this_is_not_nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/gifts).

> Set sometime between 4.01 and 4.02.
> 
> This is for TINN, who gave me the night off of revising my exchange fic to write a fic about tea. This is the result.

**3:17pm**

The afternoon is dragging by slowly. So goddamn slowly. The rain outside put a damper on the usual Main Street foot traffic, such that it ever is, which means Patrick has made hardly any sales today. And as if that weren’t frustrating enough, those few sales that _have _happened have been timed just far enough apart to keep him away from texting with David, which is what he would much rather be doing.

Lulled by the rhythmic patter of rain against the rooftop, Patrick feels his eyelids starting to droop and has to stifle the yawn as Gwen approaches the counter.

“All set with everything?” Patrick asks, with what he hopes isn’t an obviously false brightness, as he starts to ring up the organic massage oil and vegan lube that Gwen seems to buy very frequently. Patrick tries not to think about it too hard. _Good for her and Bob._

“Yes, ready to get away for the weekend!” Gwen winks at him as she slides her card into the machine, and Patrick definitely doesn’t want to stop and think about _that_, since just this morning Bob had talked his ear off trying to get Patrick to join in the poker game he’s hosting tomorrow night.

“Well, I hope you have good time. Safe travels,” he manages to squeak out once she’s signed the receipt and he hands over her bag. When the shopkeeper bell finally dings as she opens the door to leave, Patrick pulls his phone out to check the time again.

**3:26pm**

_How the fuck is it still only 3:26pm?_

Thank god they close at 5:00 pm on Tuesdays. Just ninety-four minutes to go.

Tuesdays are the worst.

Well, at least they are _now. _When they first opened, Patrick enjoyed being able to come in and leave an hour early on his solo days, but…well, that was _before. _Now, he just misses David.

Is it pathetic to miss your boyfriend this much already? Patrick thinks it might be a _little_ pathetic, especially since they haven’t even put a label on things yet. No mention of the b-word, no discussion of whether they are exclusive or not (Patrick really hopes so), no talks about their past relationships, either. Well, that part is a good thing. Patrick doesn’t know when he’ll feel ready for that one. But the rest? It would be nice to feel a little more…secure about where he stands with David.

It is his own damn fault, too. After all, _he _told David that he wanted to take things slow. So they have been going slow in every possible way, which is…frustrating, to be honest. All Patrick had meant at the time was that he wasn’t so sure about getting fucked in the ass on their second date. But fuck if David isn’t a stickler for following Patrick’s rules to the fucking _letter. _And, honestly, it would be irritating if it wasn’t so endearing. Okay, maybe it’s a little irritating. Because Patrick thinks he’d really like to, you know, try that…with David. Soon.

So now it’s a Tuesday and Patrick is lonely and missing his bo—missing David _and _thinking about getting fucked in the ass. As if his jeans weren’t tight enough already.

**3:31pm**

_Fuck. _This day is never going to end, and what Patrick really needs right now is a cup of tea. Well, what he really needs is to get fucked in the ass, but that’s obviously not going to happen right now, so he would settle for the tea. And maybe for a few minutes to jerk one out in the bathroom.

Patrick rests his forehead on his hands and wills time to move faster, silently weighing the pros and cons of closing the shop so that he can jerk off in the bathroom, and just when he’s convinced himself that it’s really a prudent business decision to do so, for like, his productivity and focus, the goddamn shop bell over the door rings again.

Patrick grits his teeth and plasters on his customer service face. “Welcome to Rose Apoth—,”but he stops suddenly when he sees the figure at the door, a smile threatening to split his face in two.

“Hi,” David’s voice is hoarse, slightly breathy, and so _so _sexy. He closes the door and slides a pair of giant white sunglasses up on top of his hair and grins, and it makes something deep inside Patrick coil up like a spring. David is wearing some kind of grayscale leopard pattern sweater, but Patrick is the one who is ready to pounce.

“Hey, you,” he says as he watches David saunter toward the counter. Patrick scrubs his hand through his hair, all at once self-conscious about the half-chub he’s still sporting. He hopes David won’t notice, or maybe...maybe he hopes that David _does_ notice. Wonders what David would do if he notices. 

David is definitely going to notice. The thought makes Patrick's dick twitch. 

“I thought you might like this.” David sets a travel mug down on the counter. “Jasmine with honey,” David murmurs, “but I wasn’t sure how much honey you actually liked, so…” he trails off, his lips twisting to the left in one of those half-smiles Patrick has come to learn have many meanings. This one is tentative, unsure—a more genuine smile than David typically shows the world. Patrick is growing to love this smile.

“Thank you, David,” he tries not to gush, to sound _too _giddy just because David brought him tea. It’s just _tea _for fuck’s sake, not some grand gesture. Why is Patrick getting himself so worked up about _tea?_

He takes a sip, and it is perfect. It’s more than perfect, because it is exactly the tea he likes to drink in the afternoons—white jasmine, the kind he has to order online because none of the shops in Elmdale sell it—the one with less caffeine than his morning tea. And David had noticed it, and gotten it for him and _brought _it to him on _his day off. _And so what if maybe it has enough honey in it to make it a little chewy? David brought him tea and Patrick is absolutely, utterly charmed.

“Have you had a good day?” David asks, his eyes raking up and down Patrick’s body, pausing at where his jeans are still a bit tented at his zipper. Of course, David noticed. David always notices. David lifts an eyebrow as he brings his eyes back up to Patrick’s face, which grows hot under the intensity of David’s gaze. The way David looks at him…like he’s something desirable, like he’s something, _someone _that David actually _wants. _How could someone as breathtakingly beautiful as David possibly _want _Patrick?

He feels the flush grow even hotter beneath his skin, like David is the fucking sun and he’s…well, himself, the guy who needs 50+ SPF even in winter.

“David,” he begins, his voice coming out shaky, reedy—Patrick is frustrated at the desperate timbre of it, but he’s a take-charge guy, so he continues, clearing his throat. And, okay, dropping his gaze to the floor, because maybe he’ll be able to actually make words happen if he isn’t looking right into the sun. “I…” He idly fingers at the top button of his baby blue Oxford shirt; his chest is suddenly itchy, and he knows that the flush is spreading across it in decidedly _unsexy_ red blotches. _Is there something wrong with the heating in here?_ Get it together, Brewer. “I—uh, I was thinking about you, actually.” He glances up at David through his lashes, afraid of what he might see in David’s face. Confusion? Laughter? Pity?

God, why is this so hard? Why can’t he just tell David what he wants? Patrick’s pretty sure that if he could just do that, David would let him have it.

“Me?” David purrs, resting his forearms on the counter and leaning forward so that he can kiss Patrick’s cheek. “What about me?” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he wiggle his brows. “Good things, I hope.” David lets that last part come out slow like honey, popping the ‘p’ before he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down.

Patrick’s brain melts a little at that.

“David,” this time Patrick leans, reaching for the back of David’s neck to draw him closer. Patrick slides the tip of his tongue along the seam of David’s lips until David’s mouth drops open, and then he lets it slip inside, just long enough to tease at David’s tongue, before he takes David’s upper lip between his own. David’s mouth…god, it is fucking intoxicating. Patrick wants to kiss David, just keep kissing David; he wants to get lost in kissing David’s beautiful mouth.

But David apparently has other ideas. “Patrick.” David’s voice is a warning now, and he’s standing up and shaking himself off, like he needs to recover a little from the kiss, too, and Patrick’s chest puffs up a bit at that. He likes to see those cracks in David’s perfect facade, likes to know that he can have that kind of effect on him.

“The store’s still open, you know.” David’s lips are pursed and his eyes are wide, those uncontrollable brows shooting toward his perfectly styled hairline, but there’s no real bite to his words. David teases him back just as unrelentingly as he teases David, and it’s one of the things that Patrick loves…um, one of the things he _really appreciates _about the man that he’s seeing in a way that feels serious but maybe isn’t because they haven’t had that conversation yet, or done anything but kiss, really. Man, his brain is a fucking minefield today.

Patrick _really appreciates _David, the gorgeous man he’s seeing with delicate lips and scratchy stubble and strong arms who makes him want to open himself up, body and soul, just to let David get closer. That’s what he means, he corrects his overeager heart. That’s all. No need to get ahead of himself.

**3:47pm**

“You know, it _has _been pretty slow today,” Patrick starts, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking up onto the balls of his feet, trying to make his eyes do something that David will find sexy and not desperate.

“Yes, and?” David’s giving him a _knowing_ smirk, along with another quick glance back down to the front of Patrick’s pants before letting that smirk grow into a wider grin. Patrick’s ears are _burning_ now, and all he really wants to do is pull David back into the stockroom and wipe that smirk off his face with his dick, but that’s something that would require advance negotiation, probably. So instead, he goes for teasing. “I didn’t take you for an improv kind of guy, David.”

Confusion flickers over David’s face; his brows furrow together, and his head does one of those adorable little shakes. “I don’t know what you mean,” he scowls as he speaks.

“Yes, and,” Patrick feels the ground steadying under his feet as he enjoys the myriad emotions playing out in David’s face journey. _This_, he thinks, _this is familiar. _“It’s an improv thing? Did I not tell you that I was in an improv troupe in college?”

David’s waving his hands around his face now, shrugging and shaking his head like he’s too flustered to form words, and Patrick absolutely _adores _being able pull that kind of reaction out of David. _God, he’s cute._

“I can-_not _respond to—” David shudders, bringing one hand to worry at his jaw as the other swoops in Patrick’s general direction, “to _that _right now.” He slinks his way around the counter and wraps his arms around Patrick’s waist, nestling his chin over Patrick’s shoulder. He noses the short hair behind Patrick’s ear, then whispers, “So why do you want to close early today?”

David’s breath, hot and wet against the shell of his ear, sends a shiver straight down Patrick’s spine and reminds his dick that it was getting excited. A small whimper escapes his lips, unbidden, as Patrick rests the back of his head against David’s broad chest. “David,” he sighs, his voice nothing but a breathy whisper.

“Yes, Patrick?” David nuzzles into that spot behind Patrick’s ear, like he’s breathing in his scent, and Patrick’s dick is getting so _so_ hard.

“I need—” David nips at his lobe, and Patrick forgets how to speak. Instead, he wiggles his hips from side to side, rubbing his ass against David’s front. He can feel David starting to thicken in those tight jeans, and he wants it. Patrick desperately _wants. “_Lock. The Goddamned. Door.”

David inhales sharply, so Patrick knows his newfound aggression has caught David at least slightly off-guard, but otherwise, he shows no signs of surprise. Or that he’s going to do what Patrick wants.

“_Now_, David.” This time Patrick’s voice is even more forceful as he turns in David’s arms, grabbing hold of that gorgeous stubbled jaw and pulling David’s mouth down to his. The kiss is punishing—Patrick’s tongue thrusting inside David’s mouth, exploring and claiming it for his own; his teeth biting down on David’s lower lip until David hisses and retaliates, forcing his own tongue into Patrick’s mouth; at last, Patrick moaning as he sucks on David’s tongue. He wants more of David in his mouth. Now.

David is a little flustered when Patrick finally breaks the kiss, roughly pushing him away.

“We’re closing early, David,” he demands, and David just nods, dazedly, a bit dumbstruck by Patrick’s sudden need to take charge.

David scurries to the door, flipping the sign and locking it, but he doesn’t come right back. He turns, resting his back against the door, and just watches Patrick with those deep brown eyes. He lifts an eyebrow, his lips twisting to the left, and just _stands there_. Watching. Waiting for Patrick’s next move.

Enough is motherfucking _enough._

Patrick strides toward him, closing the distance between him in seconds, and then he’s tangling his fingers through David’s hair, pulling him down and licking a hot stripe up his neck, thrusting forward and pinning David’s hips to the door with his own. Patrick bites a spot just below David’s earlobe, somewhere that none of his sweaters can hide, and he starts to suck, desperate to show the world that the beautiful man in his arms belongs entirely to him. David just groans, dropping his head back against the door to offer more of himself up for Patrick to claim. _Mine._

Patrick’s breath is coming in ragged pants as he tears himself away from David’s neck. His voice is rough as he presses his mouth against David’s ear, “Wanna taste you, David. Wanna suck your cock. Now.”

_This. _Patrick thinks, is all Patrick can think. _This is what I need. _He grabs David by the hand and leads him to the stock room. Is stomach is all aflutter—some heady combination of nerves, anticipation, and sheer lust—but that doesn’t matter right now.

There’s heat coming off of David’s hand where they’re touching, and Patrick realizes that his palms are sweaty, and for a millisecond thinks maybe he should wipe his hands on his jeans. But the way that David’s thumb is tracing along the back of his hand? Patrick doesn’t want to break that contact, so fuck it, his hand will stay sweaty.

Once they’re both safely tucked behind the curtain, Patrick spins on his heel and lunges for David, snakes his arms around David’s waist and draws him closer, closer, _closer_. He leans in for another kiss, letting loose a happy little sigh as David brings his hands to Patrick’s neck and cards those long, nimble fingers through the short hair at his nape.

His dick is straining now, pushing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans. He starts to bring the heel of his hand to press against the bulge at his crotch, but that would mean letting go of where he’s grabbing David’s ass, and _well, _priorities. He kneads David’s glutes through those tight black jeans, splays his fingers out wide to grab as much of David as he can possibly hold, and it’s still not enough.

David whimpers as Patrick squeezes his cheeks, and Patrick may combust a little at the sound. He slides one hand to the front of David’s pants and slips his fingers just inside the waistband, teasing the coarse hair beneath his fingertips. Patrick pulls back from the kiss just enough to breathe against David’s lips. “Can I—?” heleaves the question unfinished as he looks intoDavid’s eyes, his gorgeous, chocolate brown eyes, and waits.

For what seems like eons, David just stares back at him, as if looking for some kind of secret signal, and Patrick wonders if he’s going to die before David gives him an answer, before he can get his hands on David’s dick. Patrick leans forward, nuzzles the tip of his nose against David’s, teases the seam of his lips with his tongue, and waits.

David blinks at him, owlishly, and then slowly, deliberately nods his head.

_Yes._

Patrick sinks to his knees right there, brings his mouth to the spot just above David’s waistband, and gives him the gentlest of kisses. An offering, an expression of gratitude. He slowly mouths his way up the dark trail of hair to David’s navel, lets the tip of his nose ghost around it, and then kisses his way back down to meet his fingers.

As he unbuttons David’s jeans, his fingers trembling, Patrick sends out a silent thank you to the gods of fashion that today David is wearing pants he actually understands_. _He rests his forehead on David’s abdomen as he slowly unzips his fly, and _fuck. _David’s cock is right there, _right _fucking_ there. _Patrick closes his eyes and breathes it all in. He nuzzles his face against the silky fabric of David’s underwear, and maybe that’s weird, to, like, smell your boyfriend’s dick like this? But Patrick doesn’t care. He rubs against David’s tented briefs—feeling David’s clothed erection with his cheek, his jaw, his nose—he’s rubbing his face back and forth against David’s dick now, the way a cat would mark its territory, and just inhaling _David. _

David scratches his nails through Patrick’s hair, so light and delicate, but the sensation is enough to draw Patrick out of his daze, at least a little bit. He opens his eyes and looks up through his lashes as he continues to nose against David’s dick, and what he sees…_fuck, _Patrick’s jeans get even tighter.

David stares down at him, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils blown; Patrick watches him drag the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, slowly—so slowly—before he takes it between his teeth and bites. He’s never seen David look so goddamn _hungry_. And that he’s looking at Patrick like that, because of what Patrick is doing to him? It’s a rush like nothing else.

Patrick opens his mouth and takes a tentative lick up the line of David’s cock. David’s eyes flutter shut and the muscles of his thighs, his abdomen tense up. _Fuck. _He noses his way up to the damp spot at the tip—David’s fucking leaking precome and it’s because of _him? Fuck _that’s hot—and then, he flicks his tongue over it. Hard to taste through the fabric. Patrick presses a soft kiss to the head of David’s cock through his underwear, slides his hands up to the waistband of David’s jeans, and mutters, “Off, please.”

“O-oh-okay,” David stammers as he wiggles his way out of his jeans, leaving the black boxer briefs on. Patrick runs his hands up David’s bare thighs, relishing in the way the the coarse hair tickles his palms. He dips his fingers into the waistband and looks up, waiting for David’s assent.

“These too?” Patrick can’t help himself; he gets distracted and takes just the head of David’s cock into his mouth, sucking gently through the fabric.

“You are a fucking vision,” David breathes, resting those large hands on top of Patrick’s for just a moment before he begins to push his briefs down. Patrick just sits back on his heels, mesmerized as he watches David’s cock slap against his abdomen. Patrick’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, his saliva thick as he takes it in. David is long and thick, almost the same gorgeous pink as his beautiful lips, and the tip glistens with precome. He’s cut, and somewhere in the back of his mind Patrick expected that, but seeing it up close is just…wow. it’s just so goddamn beautiful. Is that a thing people think? That a dick is beautiful? Because David’s is fucking _beautiful_. 

“Y-you don’t have to do this, you know,” David’s voice is small now, like he’s nervous or something, and how could he be nervous when he’s so goddamned gorgeous? Patrick looks up at David through his lashes to see him chewing on his bottom lip. And that’s it. That’s fucking _it._

He may not know what he’s doing, but fuck it. He’s gonna wipe that anxious look off David’s face with his mouth. Patrick flattens out his tongue, and licks the underside from root to tip, pausing to finally _finally _get a taste of the precome drooling from the slit. _Fuck. _He grips the base and then lets his hand glide up and down along the shaft, makes little kitten licks all over the head. Patrick just lets himself drink in the different textures and sensations—the velvety softness of the cock head, the skin along the shaft gently rolling against the friction of his hand. It’s simultaneously familiar and so _so_ different.

Patrick takes another exploratory lick, then swirls his tongue around the ridge, pleased to hear the way that makes David’s breath hitch. He takes just the head into his mouth, sucking gently, massaging the frenulum with his tongue.

David moans and slides his fingers through Patrick’s hair, and _fuck. _Patrick takes him deeper into his mouth this time, hollowing his cheeks and sucking a little harder. He’s got David’s cock in his mouth, and it’s better than he imagined. Patrick begins to bring his hand to meet his mouth, bobbing his head up and down, finding a steady rhythm punctuated by David’s little gasps and whimpers.

Realizing his jaw is starting to ache, Patrick pulls off with a slurp, and then mouths messy, wet kisses up and down David’s length. He teases that sensitive spot where the shaft meets the head with the tip of his tongue, and is rewarded with a breathy moan. _God_, he loves those sounds David is making. He wants to bottle them up. He wants to make David scream.

When he takes David back into his mouth, he almost gags himself, and has to pop back off, sputtering and coughing. “Sorry,” he mutters, more to David’s dick than to David himself, but David just tilts Patrick’s head up, strokes his jaw so soft and sweet. “You’re doing so well, sweetie. Making me feel so good. Don’t apologize—_fuck!_”

Patrick cuts him off by laving his balls with his tongue, and then takes one into his mouth and hums around it. David likes that, he makes a mental note as he takes the other into his mouth. _David really likes that. _David’s fingers are threading through his hair, his blunt nails scraping against his scalp. Yes, this is better. Patrick likes rendering David speechless like this. He likes making David feel good. He wants to make him feel _so_ good.

This time, Patrick’s more careful when he swallows David down, keeps his hand gripped firm around the base. David’s breath is coming in shallow pants now, the little sounds he’s making are more ragged, but he’s being so reserved. He’s got his fingers in Patrick’s hair but he’s not holding on or pulling or anything. Patrick wants that, he thinks. He wants David to manhandle him, to fuck his mouth with that beautiful dick. He should tell David that, but he can’t talk with his mouth full of cock, so instead, he brings his free hand to rest on one of David’s and grips it tight, pushes David’s fingers into his scalp.

“Really?” Thank _fuck _David got the message; Patrick pulls back so that just the head of David’s cock is still in his mouth and nods up at him before messily slurping back down.

And finally, _finally_, David takes a firm hold of Patrick’s head and starts to thrust, and it’s perfect. There’s a mixture of saliva and precome dripping down Patrick’s chin, and he knows that David is absolutely going to give him shit about his sloppy mouth later, but this is what he has wanted for so long, and it’s so much better than he even _dreamed,_ and he’s fucking moaning, humming around David’s dick as David thrusts—carefully, _so carefully—_into his mouth. Patrick wants him to be careless; he wants David to lose control. He looks up at David’s face, sees him watching, still so _goddamn_ careful, so he reaches for David’s ass and squeezes, hard, and winks. _Fuck my face, _he wills David to understand, to take what he needs, to give Patrick what he wants. _I want to choke on your cock. _

David shakes his head, a tiny little flutter of movement, and grunts as Patrick digs his short nails into the meat of David’s ass. Patrick hopes he leaves marks, wants to see evidence of himself on David tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Just thinking about it makes him groan around David’s dick, and _well. _That must do something for David because he stops holding back. He holds Patrick’s jaw and fucks into him, hard and fast, and it’s all Patrick can do to stay upright. _This _he thinks, _this is right. _It’s so intense, he can barely breathe, and it’s so goddamn _intense; _he can feel his eyes welling up with tears, and his breath is catching, and his hips stutter because _fuck_, he’s coming in his pants as David fucks his mouth.

_Fuck oh fuck oh fuck _is running through his brain like one of those news show tickers, and then with no warning at all David pulls out, away from Patrick’s mouth, and his hand is moving frantically as he jerks himself off. David’s eyes flutter closed, and he’s biting his lip and coming into his hand. David stumbles backward a little and collapses back onto the sofa like his legs have stopped cooperating.

“S’no fair,” Patrick grumbles as he comes down from his own orgasm. “That was mine.” He’s still kneeling on the floor, too far away now, so he crawls over and sits on his heels in between David’s feet, frowning up at his deliciously fucked out boyfriend.

“I-um…well, not everyone likes…that?” David begins, giving Patrick a little grin. “And since we didn’t…uh, discuss it beforehand? I didn’t…uh—want to surprise you.” David’s lips smoosh all the way to the left as he tries to rein in his face. It doesn’t work. The fondness spills out anyway. 

Patrick reaches for David’s hand and brings it to his mouth, tongue darting out for the tiniest little lick. It’s…jizz, is what it is. But it’s _David’s, _and when he goes in for that taste, David’s eyes go dark, and Patrick likes that. He _really _likes that, so Patrick opens up David’s hand and slowly drags his tongue across his palm. Then, one by one, he takes each of David’s fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking each one clean.

“Next time, don’t stop me.”


End file.
